


Sparkling Sake Sangria

by galliechan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8594806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galliechan/pseuds/galliechan
Summary: A collection of Yuri on Ice One-Shots. Four: A mix of Soulmate AU, Bookstore AU and Fairy Tale AU along with ridiculous dances and some cosplaying.





	1. Third-rate Coach

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Yuri on Ice anime is the property of its authorised owners. These short stories are created by the author. All original settings, characters, etc. remain the property of the author.
> 
> Author’s Note: I wasn’t planning on writing anything for this anime as I had many projects going on already. Then inspiration came. Felt like I will write more than an one-shot so made this a collection. As usual with my one-shot collections, this one is also named after a cocktail.
> 
> It’s recipe:
> 
> 2 Cucumbers Sliced  
> 2 cups Pineapple cut in chunks  
> 2 cups Plum wine  
> 2 cups Sparkling Sake  
> 1 Star Fruit Sliced
> 
> \- Add the fruit and plum wine into a small pitcher and let it sit to soak for at least a few hours (or overnight!).  
> \- Top with sparkling sake, give it a stir and then serve.
> 
> I hope it is a nice cocktail. 
> 
> As for this story - it is inspired from Yakov’s sentence from the latest episode, “If your student’s trying to console you, you still have a long way to go as a coach, Vitya.” Until this point, he complained that Victor was only playing coach so he should come back. With this sentence, it felt like he was acknowledging that Victor was a coach, one with a long road ahead of him but a coach nonetheless. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: This story contains spoilers for episode 7.

  
Sparkling Sake Sangria

A Yuri on Ice fanfiction collection  
by Galliechan  
© Copyright 2016

Third-rate Coach   


“Hey, Yakov, can I have a minute?”

Yakov turned, then couldn’t help himself and glared at his former student.

“What do you want?”

“I have a ques -“

“Where is your student?” he barked.

“He is doing an intervi -“

“What are you doing here? Stand by him, you third-rate coach!”

His smile dimmed. His blue eyes slid to the corner of the room where his student held his silver medal with a mixture of honor and embarrassment. The Japanese reporter looked proud. 

Yakov eased on his glare and looked at the boy who used to be one of his star pupils. Victor loved ice more than any other and ice loved him back, more than any other. Nevertheless, this relationship had an end. Yakov knew it. Victor knew it. The Russian team knew it. The whole figure staking community knew it. 

As his coach, Yakov always had to be ahead of Victor’s impulses. He could feel his student’s restlessness after the season. 

Of course, Victor could always skate another season and even win all the gold medals. However, nobody would be surprised. Victor hated this fact so much that Yakov didn’t see him skate another season.

Such a shame because Victor thrived on skating. He loved attention. He wanted every eye in the room, in the ring, in the arena to look at him and only him. In figure skating, only skaters could have such attraction.

Yakov thought of commentators - too little attention and too much praising others - reporters - too much asking questions he knew the answers of - and columnists - too little action. He thought of coaches - too little attention and too unselfish. Then he thought of show skaters - too little competitiveness. At long last, he found it - choreographers. He imagined his student as a proud choreographer that could use every note, every nuance of the music to make up more and more expressive yet difficult step sequences. The new generation would win medals with Victor’s choreographies. 

Yakov readied himself for his last duty as this talented boy’s coach. If he didn’t come to him, a delightful grin on his lips and eyes bright with a new idea, Yakov would hint at it. Remind how he loved to create his choreographies and complain when Yakov made any changes. How he refused to work with any choreographers. How he already prepared two for the next season before he decided to take a break.

Then the stupid, foolhardy boy became a coach. The least suited job for him.

“It’s okay,” his student murmured as he turned back to Yakov, “the reporter is a fan.”

A fan of Katsuki Yuuri, he meant.

Yakov never imagined his student could leave his proud self aside to root for another skater. 

Not an ordinary one, by all means. Every one of his faults aside, Victor has always been clever. 

Katsuki Yuuri competed in the Grand Prix Finals. Yes, he finished in the last place and quit skating. Afterward, with his chubby figure, he completed one of Victor’s programs - all the jumps, step sequences, hand movements and even facial expressions flawless. 

The boy had talent, experience and admiration for Victor. The boy also had a problem that didn’t allow him to show his full potential in competitions. 

Victor made a smart choice. If he solved one obstacle, he could carry the boy to victory. A good first step as a coach. 

Yet, his student was a first-rate skater, third-rate coach. By now, he must have jumped over and over again, only to see confused eyes. Tried to get close, but faced rejections. Understood that this job stood for more than choreography, step sequence or practice. Yakov thought ahead of Victor’s impulsiveness and then feigned surprise, gave Georgi instructions that would disturb him just so and looked for signs of rebellion, beg his ex-wife to give lessons to this talented but loud-mouthed boy who wouldn’t bother to express his gratitude to his coach. 

This job meant he could see the change in his student who asked him to join for hot pot two days ago and now, where his somber eyes kept both Yakov and Katsuki Yuuri in his sight. 

“So, what?”

“How do you deal with anxiety before competitions?”

He glowered and barked, “Why would I give tips to my rival?”

His student winced. “Because you are a first-rate coach?” 

Oh, calm down, old heart. 

Then again, Victor never withheld his compliments. 

Victor’s look hurt Yakov’s heart. The boy saw his flaws, but not how to correct them. 

For years, Yakov tuned himself to every tick and blink of this boy and the moment he left his side, this look of helplessness and misery came over his face? Yakov calmed down after he also saw the hope in his blue eyes.

“Ah, the interview’s over.” His complete attention turned to his student. Yakov watched with interest as his expression softened and his eyes glowed. Even his most heart-wrenching programs didn’t create such a tender look on his face as he gazed into Katsuki Yuuri’s eyes.

His student was clever. He was also lucky. 

The Japanese boy’s expression showed no issues of trust or respect between them. 

Good.

Victor put his hand to his student’s shoulder as soon as he got within an arm’s distance. “Yuuri! My former coach, Yakov.”

Do a proper introduction, idiot b -!

The boy gave a slight bow, and then put his hand back to his coach’s waist, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Feltsman.”

He had kind eyes with dark bags under. He leaned to Victor but didn’t put his head on his shoulder because of his respect for Yakov. His calm gaze focused on Yakov’s eyes, like a student determined to pass this test. Victor, unaware of their exchange, looked at the boy like he held an unlimited capacity to surprise him. 

No wonder his student fell for this boy, who dared to do a quad flip at the end of his program while exhausted from a sleepless night and nerves all day. Of course, his ambitious and proud student had to give a larger surprise.

The stupid, impulsive and lucky boy who found someone to surprise him, at last. Who did the least suited job for him to support this boy. Even swallow his pride to ask advice from his old coach. 

His boy grew up. 

Katsuki Yuuri looked at the Russian men and smiled. 

“I - I didn’t congratulate Phichit-kun and Celestino yet. Coming back in a minute.” He released his hold on Victor’s waist and ran to the gold medalist. Victor blinked after him. 

Perspective boy. He even started the conversation at a place that he could see Victor and Yakov from the corner of his eyes.

“You are a third-rate coach,” Yakov said. His student looked at him with wide eyes. “But you didn’t win gold in your first tournament either.” Victor blinked as if Yakov had never said supportive words to him before.

What did the boy think he did for all those years?

“Your student is experienced and knows what he wants from his coach. Listen to him, learn his cues. When not sure, ask him.” He frowned, “and don’t ask me advice, you are not my student anymore!”

Victor smiled. The same smile he gave years ago at a Kiss and Cry. A flower crown still on his head and a dog plushie on his lap, he learned his total score, the highest, his first gold medal. Thereon he turned to Yakov next to him, smiled and said, “Thank you, Yakov!”

Yakov became senile if he got emotional over a smile.

“Thank you, Yakov!”

He grumbled and turned around to leave the building. Georgi was at the doors like he had instructed.

At the sliding doors, he glanced back. Katsuki Yuuri had returned back to his coach’s side, his head on his shoulder and eyes closed as Victor played with his messy hair. He pulled his dark bangs aside to put a light kiss on his forehead. The boy opened his eyes, raised his head and squeezed Victor’s waist. They gazed at each other, their lips curled upwards without their notice.

Yakov liked this look on his student. Katsuki Yuuri supported him as he leaned on him.

Good.


	2. Intermission: For Makkachin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did you eat those steamed buns, Makkachin? Why now? Why not tomorrow or when they returned back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for episode 8.

Intermission: For Makkachin

A steamed bun got stuck in his throat, echoed in Viktor’s head. A steamed bun.

_One thing. I told you only one thing, Makkachin. Don’t eat any steamed buns._

Why, why Makkachin?

His chest hurt. His heart worked in a frantic rhythm, each beat like a desperate breath against huge waves.

Or they sounded like that in Viktor’s ears? He couldn’t seem to take enough air. He was surrounded by something…like liquid…or not…like…drowning.

Everything seemed to have slowed down and come from afar. 

“Huh?” Three voices exclaimed at the same time. Viktor blinked back to his coach. Sounds, colors, and reality washed over him.

Makkachin drowned…no, choked. He couldn’t take enough air too.

“I-I should go,” he said to Yuuri as his fingers clenched on Yakov’s shoulders. He didn’t know who he said it to.

“Go to the hotel, I will buy your ticket,” Yuuri said, his eyes honest and open. Viktor stood between two pillars of strength, eyes on one and hands on another. His breath seemed to ease. 

Yuuri glanced at his phone, Viktor saw the main screen of the airline app for a moment, before his eyes returned back to Victor’s. Did he know huge waves of something kept at bay as long as he looked at Viktor?

Viktor wanted to be with him tomorrow. 

He wished Yuuri hadn’t told him about Makkachin. He was grateful Yuuri had told him about Makkachin.

Why did you eat those steamed buns, Makkachin? Why now? Why not tomorrow or when they returned back?

Why eat them at all? _It was the only thing I told you not to do!_

Warm hands held his wrists. Yakov tightened his hold for an instant before he freed his coat from Viktor’s clench. His arms fell back to his sides as he swayed on his feet. 

“Vitya, I will take care of your student for tomorrow.”

He nodded. Then nodded again with a murmur, “Thank you, Yakov.”

“Got it. Your flight is in three hours.” Yuuri said. When did Viktor take his eyes off him? They had clouded in worry in the meantime, still wider than normal.

An hour ago, he kissed Yuuri’s skates at Kiss and Cry. 

They still had to perform. Viktor had to give lot and lots of interviews. Tomorrow, before the program, he planned to get on one knee and take off Yuuri’s skate guards. He intended to watch Yuuri with his largest smile and jump in joy when he made the quad flip. He wanted to kiss Yuuri’s medal and ask for an autograph in front of all the cameras. 

He wondered how Yuuri would deal with his anxiety this time. Viktor had suggestions, strategies, and ideas. He wanted to try his best and be at Yuuri’s side. 

Like Yuuri wanted. The only thing Yuuri wanted. 

So why Makkachin? Why, why, why dear Makkachin? 

Don’t die Makkachin.

He blinked and bit his lip. His breath hitched.

“Go to the hotel, Viktor. I will be okay tomorrow.”

Viktor nodded. He took a step back from Yakov and turned around to face Yuuri. He stood a few steps away from Viktor, although it felt like the end of a long corridor. 

He wanted Yuuri to hug him and then kiss him. Caress his hair and tell that Makkachin would be okay. That he would be fine. That Viktor should prepare his Katsudon for his return and let’s put the steamed buns to another place where Makkachin wouldn’t be able to reach.

Instead, Yuuri didn’t move from his respectful distance, standing straight but smile unsteady, his eyes still wide with worry. 

Viktor gritted his teeth. He took a step towards him. 

At least ten cameras flashed around him, several reporters raised their microphones and closed their distance.

Damn this place! Damn - Damn all these - this everything! 

Yuuri told him to go to the hotel, again. Viktor nodded, hoping his emotions would reach him through his look, his expressions. Then, he turned around and ran.


	3. The Winner Stands Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As long as Yuri still loved skating and exclaimed in joy when he broke records, he was all right.

The winner stands alone

“Final skater of the second group, Yuri Plisetsky, four-time Grand Prix Gold winner and the Olympic Gold winner, took his place on the ice.” The commentator said amongst cheers from the audience. Viktor pushed the Makkachin tissue box and blade guards to his chest, he could feel his rapid heartbeat through them.

His tightened-up muscles relaxed when a warm hand took his and laced their fingers. The hand was shaking, though.

“He is going to be fine.”

“Of course he will be.”

They didn’t take their eyes off the figure skating in circles on the ice. Yuri's new long hair suited him, although he didn’t have the delicate features of his youth anymore. They befitted his sharp eyes and soft smile. 

Viktor knew which one came from who.

They had their traditions before competitions. Viktor still held his Makkachin tissue box, a memory of his dear companion. Yuuri held Yuri’s tissue box, an angry cat that only created a snort instead of the huge scowl of past. He also had a paper bag. Viktor could smell the faint delicious aroma of pirozhki, and he knew they tasted as good, for he ate two before Yuuri noticed and chased him away from the kitchen.

Yuri looked at them before taking his place in the middle of the ice.

“Yurio! Davai!” Yuuri shouted.

“Gamba!” Viktor shouted, raising his joined hand with Yuuri.

Their voices echoed from the large screens at the either side the arena. The cameramen, reporters, commentators - everyone knew this tradition.

It was their most important.

Yuri gave a tiny smile, his expression fond, exasperated and grateful at the same time. Then he took a deep breath, got into his position and adjusted his expression. The music started.

“Shock the audience, Yuri,” Viktor whispered.

Yuri started his program with a quad flip. It didn’t surprise anymore. 

It wasn’t called Viktor’s signature move anymore, too.

He had three more quads in his program, amongst various jumps and combinations. This program was harder than last year’s where Yuri broke the world record. And the last year’s was harder than the previous year’s.

Everyone expected Yuri to break another world record today. They expected him to be his perfect skater self and show them a great program.

They expected him to win his fifth Grand Prix Gold and then next year, break Viktor’s record.

Viktor knew this feeling. He had stood at the top of the world, alone, bored out of his mind and wondered why he skated. Only with the man next to him, he gained his love for skating back.

Yuri wouldn’t have the same fate. Victor would continue to push him, continue to create more and more complicated programs while eyeing the competition, hoping they would be able to catch up.

In the meantime, Viktor and Yuuri cheered for him. They also reminded that Yuri didn’t break Viktor’s record yet. That he had once lost to Yuuri. That he still didn’t have Yuuri’s stamina and didn’t dare to skate another’s program and make it his own.

They always reminded that they were with Yuri. He might be alone on the ice, but he wasn’t off it. He might be alone on the top of the world, but Viktor was once there too. Yuuri was the one who caught him when he fell, if Yuri were to fall, he would also be there for him.

They had their Makkachin tissue box, pirozhki, and lectures at Kiss and Cry. 

Yuri finished his program among loud cheers. A perfect program.

Viktor wished Yuri broke his record. Viktor wished he didn’t break his world record.

Yuri skated towards them, panting and flushed. Yuuri snatched the blade guards from Viktor’s hand and ran ahead. Instead of giving them, he hugged the young man.

Viktor watched them for a moment, his heart too full and warm, before he joined the hug. Yuri hugged back. 

Some time later, Yuuri remembered the blade guards and Yuri took them with a snort. He pulled them on, but before he straightened, he winked Viktor and snatched the paper bag hanging limp from Yuuri’s hand, forgotten. Viktor put a kiss to Yuuri’s neck to turn his complaints to splutter.

Yuri grinned at them from the Kiss and Cry. Viktor sat down next to him and decided to give him enough time to eat one before his lecture on his imperfections of the program.

“Katsudon pirozhki?” Yuri froze and frowned, “you expected me to win?”

“We were hoping, at the least.”

“But this is a competition and anything could happen -“

Viktor remembered his last gold and how he despaired for someone else to win it. 

“You are eating them before the scores.”

Yuri looked at Yuuri, behind the cameras and Viktor, sitting next to him, in confusion.

“It is katsudon pirozhki, not katsudon,” Yuuri said, his smile soft and eyes radiant. “It works as congratulations, condolences, cheering or a birthday gift. The real katsudon will be tomorrow.”

Viktor felt Yuri relax next to him, “then I will give your gift tomorrow too.”

Viktor blinked Yuuri’s bright smile away. “Unfair!” he yelped, “I got mine on my birthday, give his on his birthday too.”

“I am giving his early!”

“Exactly!”

Yuuri grinned. “Then Victor will make your pirozhki for the finals.”  
Viktor’s complaints trailed off. As if he didn’t hear them, he turned to Yuri and started his lecture.

Yuri and Yuuri laughed. 

Afterwards, all of them waited with breaths held as the scores were announced.

Yuri broke his record.

He jumped up from his seat in joy. Yuuri and Viktor looked at each other and smiled.

As long as Yuri still loved skating and exclaimed in joy when he broke records, he was all right.


	4. Cinderella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mix of Soulmate AU, Bookstore AU and Fairy Tale AU along with ridiculous dances and some cosplaying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Yuri on Ice Valentine Exchange story. Hope you’ll like it.
> 
> My prompts were Soulmate AU, Bookstore AU and Fairy Tale AU. After spending some time with each of them without any inspiration, I decided to mix them all. Un-betaed, unfortunately, as I only finished it yesterday. 
> 
> (Yeah, with the most imaginative title ever…!)
> 
> Hope you’ll have a nice Valentine’s with your loved ones :)

Cinderella

“Yuuri-san!” the young man sat on the small, plastic, red chair among the children’s cheer and opened a book on his lap. He put a finger to his lips and smiled at the children sitting around him, on the puzzle-patterned carpet. They giggled, a few girls even hushed the boys. Yuuri waited until they calmed down and started staring at him with bright eyes.

Some customers sent him thankful looks before lowering their heads to the books. He smiled at a young parent who was walking around the aisles and scanning some books, one eye always on his children. Another regular had winked at Yuuri before she turned to the commotion the two young men sprinting towards them created.

Yuuri dismissed the men, except for the afterthought of wishing Mari warned them to be silent in the store. They must have been running towards the manga section - it was next to the children’s. The Seven Deadly Loves had a new volume and attracted all kinds of crazy fans.

Yuuri had devoured it yesterday, whooping whenever his favorite character appeared before checking his clothes with an appraising eye.

He found his page, took a deep breath and started.

“Once upon a time, there was a - “

“We want to join too!” 

Yuuri, the children and the customers around looked at the silver-haired man with his raised arm and weird-shaped smile. They also looked at his companion who made a horrified sound and was jumping to reach the other’s raised arm.

“Sure,” Yuuri said weakly, “we are reading Cinderella.”

“Ooh!” the older one exclaimed, ignoring the blond’s hisses, “I love Cinderella! Let’s play it! You can be Cinderella, and I would be the prince!”

Yuuri blinked, “I am reading.”

“Yuri, here, can read,” he held the smaller man’s shoulders and pushed him to the front. 

The blond tried to scramble back. When he decided it was to no avail,t he opened his mouth. “You fuc - “

The children gasped. 

“You fu - furniture. Furious furniture!” He glowered to the grinning man behind him.

“You shouldn’t scowl, you will have wrinkles,” a girl said, pointing to her forehead. “Mom said so.”

“Yeah,” another approved.

The blond turned to them, and his thunderous expression eased into an awkward one. Then his companion smoothed his forehead and stretched his lips into a smile.

“They are right, Yuri, look how beautiful you look with a smile.” He leaned over his companion’s shoulder to the children. “People call him a fairy, you know?” he revealed to them. 

They oohed. 

“Like Tinkerbell?”

“Yes but more beautiful!”

They oohed again. The blond had a tick under his eye. Yuuri caught his eye, trying to figure out if he should distance them from the children. The blond stared at Yuuri, thoughtful before his shoulders sagged.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “I am called the Russian fairy.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow as the children made another exaggerated disbelieving sound.

The young man shook his head to get his friend’s hands off his face, released his hair from its tiny ponytail and gave a look behind them to the children.

They answered with an open-mouthed silence.

Satisfied, he walked to Yuuri with his arm raised, pointing to the book on his lap. “I read, you two play.”

“Wha - ?”

“Don’t you want to see Yuuri-san as Cinderella?” The silver-haired man asked the children.

“Yes!” they cheered, some applauded. Yuuri gave his seat to the blond and tried not to glare at the other man.

This was cheating. 

“I am Viktor,” he said with a grin after he reached the tiny opening at the center of the children. “and the fairy is Yuri.”

Yuri threw a glare at his friend and started reading before Yuuri could introduce himself.

“Once upon a time, there was a wealthy widower who married a proud and haughty woman as his second wife. She had two daughters, who were equally vain and selfish.”

“Will we play them too?”

“Sure,” Viktor said, “who wants to be the step-mother and her daughters?”

No one raised a hand. 

Yuuri scanned around to see if Mari or anyone from his family saw this embarrassing scene. He could only see his father sitting at the counter, reading a newspaper.

“The gentleman had a beautiful young son, a man of unparalleled kindness and sweet temper.”

Viktor showed Yuuri with flair and the children applauded. Yuuri blushed. 

“Cinderella is a girl,” one of them protested.

“Yuuri is not,” Yuri answered. 

The children nodded. Yuuri straightened the nametag on his apron self-consciously. 

“The man's son is forced into servitude, where he was made to work day and night doing menial chores.”

Yuri paused. Viktor and the children looked at him. Yuuri crouched and pretended to clean the floor, lowering his head not to check if any customers also watched him. 

“After the man’s chores were done for the day, he would curl up near the fireplace in an effort to stay warm.”

Yuuri laid on the hard, carpeted floor and curled into himself. 

“He would often arise covered in cinders, giving rise to the mocking nickname "Cinderella" by his stepsisters. Cinderella bore the abuse patiently and dared not tell his father, who would have scolded him.”

Yuuri raised and looked around himself. Now knowing what to do, he put a finger to his lips and smiled at the children. They giggled. Then, one of them stood up with a determined face and walked to him. Leaning up, she drew awkward lines and shapes to his face with a black pastel crayon.

“Now you are Cinderella!” she cheered. The children shouted their approval. Yuuri patted her head, feeling his cheeks warm up again. Not to check again if customers saw him, he looked at Yuri and Viktor. Yuri’s expression showed his approval along with his desire to never having to do it. Viktor’s expression was - soft.

Yuuri covered his face with his hands in habit. When he jerked back, it was too late; He had smudged the paint even more.

He didn’t look at Viktor as they waited for the children to calm down.

“One day, the Prince invited all the young people in the land to a royal ball, planning to choose a partner.”

Viktor rose to his fingertips and turned around himself. Then raising one arm, he called, “come to my ball! Everybody is invited!”

He lowered his arm, clasped his hands and put them on his heart. “I am looking for my soulmate,” he said, serious.

The children shouted in joy at his performance.

Yuuri gaped at him. How did he manage to look like a prince in jeans and a sports jacket? Also, what was he, some performer or something?

Then his intense expression broke with a wink towards Yuuri. 

Is that so, Yuuri groused inward. He could also act. 

Even in half-transparent bodysuits.

“The two stepsisters gleefully planned their wardrobes for the ball, and taunted Cinderella by telling him that maids were not invited to the ball.”

Yuuri frowned and tried to play it off as Cinderella getting angry at his sisters. 

He glanced sideways; Yuri frowned as he waited for him to play while Viktor was outright staring at him, a finger to his lips.

Right. Yuuri set his jaw and gave a curt nod to himself. As he released his breath, he relaxed his muscles and curved his stance. Then, with slow movements, he pushed his hair back, spread the smudge up to his forehead and down to his neck.

“As the sisters departed to the ball, Cinderella cried in despair.”

Yuuri threw himself to the floor with a wail. He crawled to the children size plastic table next to the reader’s chair, put his arms on it and fake sobbed into them. 

The children aww-ed. A tiny hand even patted his head. 

“Don’t cry, you’ll find your prince,” she said.

Yuuri sniffed and smiled at her, a wet one, hopefully. As she walked back to her seat, he glanced at Viktor. He supported soulful eyes above quivering lips. We haven’t met yet, Yuuri felt like hissing, wait until the ball.

Yuri cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention and continued droning. “His Fairy Godmother magically appeared and immediately began to transform Cinderella from house servant to the young gentleman he was by birth, all in the effort to get Cinderella to the ball.“

A silence descended as everybody looked at each other. Yuuri and Viktor caught each other’s eyes and, as if they knew what was coming, they both looked at Yuri. He gave Viktor a confused glower.

“Wasn’t fairy-san going to clean Cinderella?”

Yuri continued glaring at Viktor and only turned to the children at his subtle head jerk.

“Ha?”

“Aren’t you the fairy?”

“He is the Russian fairy.”

“But he is a fairy.”

“But, Fairy Godmother is fairies’ mother.”

Some approval noises and nods.

“He is the only fairy here!”

“I am not a fairy!”

“You said you are!”

“I - I,” he spluttered, “Viktor said, not me! He lied!”

“He is the prince! He doesn’t lie!”

Yuri growled. Yuuri glanced at Viktor to see if he needed to hold his friend back; the silver-haired man, let alone looking worried, was laughing at the scene.

“Yeah Yuri, there is no fairies here, come play the Godmother,” he called.

“I am no godmother,” he snarled. 

“He is Godfather.” 

“Yes, yes, Fairy Godfather.”

“But he is young.”

“He can be a young father!”

“Fairy Godbrother!”

Yuuri snorted. Viktor burst out laughing. Yuri gritted his teeth but thankfully didn’t shout at the nodding and approving children.

“I am reading the book.”

“You are a fairy; you can do both!”

As Yuri tried to bargain with the children, Yuuri noticed Viktor’s laughter has subdued. He glanced and - yes, he was staring at Yuuri, again.

He felt his face warm up. Trying to cover it up with a cough, he walked next to him and asked, “is it a nickname, the fairy thing?” He was sure the arguing children wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“It stuck,” he scratched his head, “he prefers the tiger, though.”

Yuuri hmm-ed. 

“His fans like it so much that he tries not to complain.”

“Fans?” Yuuri looked at the blond to see if he could recognize his face. 

“He is famous. Internet famous, more like. Mostly Instagram. Lots of followers.”

“Okay.”

“This wasn’t a good explanation, right?” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Yuuri joined his laughter. “Not at all.”

“So, um,” he cleared his throat, his ears were still red. Yuuri smiled at the sight. “Have you heard of cosplay? You know, you make costumes and wear wigs, and there are conventions - “

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard of cosplay,” Yuuri said, his smile frozen.

“Great, so, Yuri cosplays. And puts pictures to his Instagram and has quite a fanbase. He once did a fairy costume, mostly as a joke, but his fans loved it so much that they gave him the nickname Russian Fairy. He prefers to call himself Russian Tiger.” Viktor’s chuckle told his opinion of these nicknames more than any words.

“You guys are Russian?”

“Yes,” he grinned, “we came all the way from Russia for a convention. It was last month and was huge!”

Yuuri gave a genuine at the sight of Viktor’s joy. Yes, he knew of the convention. He had been a part of it. 

Yuri, Yuri, a cosplayer Yuri, he wrecked his brain. Although not from his country, Yuuri should have, at least, heard of him.

“What is his Instagram?”

“Oh, let me show you,” Viktor pulled his mobile from his back pocket.

“What are you doing here, also cosplay?”

Viktor took his eyes off his mobile with a large smile as Instagram launched. “Yes, I also - “

“Let’s just get over this story!”

Yuri stomped towards them with his hands on his waist. He was wearing a plastic princes' crown and two girls behind him carried various toys. 

Yuuri wasn’t aware he had left the children corner. Viktor wasn’t either as his choked off words between his laughter questioned whereabouts of the toys. Even Yuuri chuckled as the blond’s expression soured, even more, chastening himself for laughing at a stranger, totally blaming Viktor’s contagious laughter. 

“So, you are the Fairy Godbrother?”

“Yes,” Yuri hissed. “Stop laughing and behave like a prince.”

“You are Yuuri’s Fairy Godbrother, not mine” he complained.

Yuri just glared at him as he reached to the bundle of toys the kids left on his chair, took out a wand with a silver star at its tip. He held the storybook with his other hand.

“His Fairy Godbrother magically appeared,” he jumped in front of a startled Yuuri, “and immediately began to transform Cinderella from house servant to the young gentleman he was by birth, all in the effort to get Cinderella to the ball.“

Yuri raised his wand and made a whooshing sound as he waved it towards Yuuri. “To a young gentleman,” he grumbled.

Chuckling, Yuuri turned around himself. Took a napkin from his apron pocket and wiped his face. He took his apron off, patted and straightened his jeans and white shirt. Noticing a few strands in front of his eyes, he pushed his bangs back again.

His hand paused on his glasses; he looked at the children watching him with joy, Yuri looking on with curiosity instead of with a glare and Viktor, whose eyes were too soft and smile delighted. He took off his glasses. 

“Ready for the ball!” he called to his blurred audience, raising his arms.

“Not yet!” they answered back.

“He turned a pumpkin into a golden carriage,” Yuri took a carriage looking toy and put it into Yuuri’s open palms. “Mice into horses,” added horses next to them, “a rat into a coachman,” it was a rat this time, Yuri shrugged at Yuuri’s raised eyebrow, “and lizards into footmen,” lizards joined the other toys. Yuuri tried to hold them so the children would be able to see all of them and shook them with a smile. 

“He then turned Cinderella's rags into a beautiful jeweled suit,” Yuri motioned him down and put a crown similar to his own to Yuuri’s head, “complete with a delicate pair of glass slippers,” he put two plastic, pink, heeled kid shoes to his hand. He wondered where had they found it in the store, they didn’t even have much of a toys section.

“You don’t expect me to wear them, right?” he murmured. Yuuri could hardly fit his hand into them.

“Don’t ask them,” the blond muttered.

“The Godbrother told him to enjoy the ball, but warned that he had to return before midnight when the spells would be broken.”

Yuuri waved his wand some more, walking around Yuuri and then pushed Yuuri towards Viktor with a grin. “Go, enjoy the ball!”

Yuuri stumbled, some of the toys falling from his hands and gave a sheepish grin at Viktor. The taller man leaned forward, took all the toys and the shoes from him and put them back to the chair Yuri used to sit. Then he took Yuuri’s hand, put the smallest of kisses to his knuckles and asked, “would you have this dance with me?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat before attempting a jump out of his chest. He could feel his face burning up. He wanted to snatch his hand back, demanding an explanation from Viktor for what was he playing at and why was he still holding it? Well, he held it with the lightest of touches, Yuuri could take it back. But - he was looking so hopeful at Yuuri. His smile wasn’t even that confident, more like wobbly and his ears must be as bright as Yuuri’s face.

“Yes,” Yuuri choked. 

The wobbly smile transformed into a bright grin, and the weak hold on his hand turned into a tight grip. Before Yuuri could understand what was going on, a hand pulled them together from his waist.

“You need to put your hand on my shoulder,” he whispered.

“I don’t know ballroom dancing,” he hissed, nearly jerking back.

“Well, me too,” Viktor grinned. 

They started swaying side to side slowly. 

“At the ball, the entire court was entranced by Cinderella, especially the Prince.”

Viktor only smiled wider, never breaking eye contact. Yuuri’s face was still burning as he gave a small smile back. Then, Viktor dipped him without notice. Yuuri clutched his shoulders with a yelp, and before his surprised expression could turn into the glare he planned, his partner rightened him up and spun him around until he felt dizzy. 

Yuuri ignored his audience’s laughter as he leaned into Viktor’s shoulders and panted. His partner, who was now leading their soft sway, looked at him in concern, as if he wasn’t aware of what he had done.

“The Prince had become so infatuated, and Cinderella, in turn, became so enchanted - “

“My prince, is this how to lead a dance?” Yuuri asked, giving a pointed look at Viktor after an apologetic glance to Yuri. 

“I think I am doing a great job.”

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise as he leaned forward. He looked at Viktor’s widening eyes with satisfaction, but just before their lips would meet, he changed direction and blew at his partner’s ear. Viktor hissed with a jerk; as soon as his hold momentary loosened, Yuuri dipped him.

Victor gave a startled laughter. Gradually, his wide eyes softened, never losing their brightness. By the time he raised one leg, and Yuuri held it to help his partner’s balance, they were both laughing.  
After Viktor had straightened, with one look, they decided not to attempt ballroom dance anymore. Their ridiculous dances, some paired, some not, created enough laughter from children to attract other customers. They screamed in joy when Viktor took off his jacket and waved it like a matador. Yuuri stumbled mid-stride as his breath hitched but he still made horns with his hands and ran towards Viktor.

“Did we meet before?” Yuuri asked as they returned to their soft sway, panting. Viktor’s lips curled into the largest grin Yuuri had ever seen.

“Yes, we di - “

“The Prince had become so infatuated, and Cinderella, in turn, became so enchanted by him he lost track of time and left only at the final stroke of midnight,” Yuri said in a clear and loud voice.  
Yuuri frowned, Viktor threw a glare at his friend. Feeling reluctant, and then getting surprised at his reluctance, Yuuri took a step back from Viktor. His partner’s expression was so heartbroken that Yuuri reached forward to caress his cheek before taking another step back.

“Losing one of his glass slippers on the steps of the palace in his haste.”

Yuuri looked around for the bright pink shoes. He threw one between Viktor and himself before turning around and ran to the other side of the reading chair.

“The Prince chased him, but outside the palace, the guards saw only a simple country man leave.”  
Viktor took two steps towards him, his arm raised and his expression pained. Only after Yuuri put on his apron and took off his plastic crown that he lowered his arm.

“The Prince pocketed the slipper and vowed to find and marry the man to whom it belonged.”

Viktor kissed the pink, plastic shoe and hugged it.

“I will find you,” he called to Yuuri’s way.

“Meanwhile, Cinderella kept the other slipper, which did not disappear when the spell was broken.”

Yuuri took the other shoe and held it close. His eyes locked with Viktor.

One of the children sniffed. Another coo-ed. Yuuri wished the story would end so he could ask some questions.

After a dramatic pause where everyone collected their emotions, Yuri read, “The Prince tried the slipper on all the women in the kingdom.”

Viktor walked among the children and tried the shoe to most of them, amongst giggles. When the shoe fitted, as was the case with most of them, Viktor put a kiss on their cheeks. 

Yuuri and Yuri watched the scene for some time before the blond turned around and gave him a meaningful look. Only then Yuuri noticed that he was smiling. He sobered as his face flushed. 

“Stop that,” he hissed, “he looked for you for so long, he deserves that smile.”

Yuuri focused on the young man next to him.

“We met at the con, last month.”

Yuri nodded. Yuuri remembered the matador-bull dance; he had played both parts with various people. Amongst them, he only knew Phitchit - the one who started the ridiculous dance in the first place.

“Who is he?”

“You - you don’t - “ Yuri gritted his teeth, “of course you don’t. You didn’t even recognize me.”

“Oh, God, sorry - “

“It’s the wigs,” he said as he took his mobile from his pocket and launched Instagram. “I guess I wouldn’t have recognized you if you used one too.”

Yuuri frowned at the nickname - Yuri-Plisetsky. 

“I don’t follow you,” he murmured.

“Then follow me!”

“No, I mean, it is quite rare. Are you new to cosplay?”

“No!”

Yuuri blinked. “No?”

“This was my first international con, though,” he mumbled.

“Congratulations!” 

They grinned at each other. It was always nice to meet fellow - 

“Oh,” he breathed when Yuri opened a picture and pretty much thrust his phone to Yuuri’s face. It was a group picture of The Seven Deadly Loves. 

Yuuri loved cosplaying Eros, he did, but he always dreaded seeing his poses after the photo shoots. At least it wasn’t only him with the half-transparent costume.

Coughing to ignore his flush, he looked closer to the picture. Five of them had planned their costumes beforehand, but the other two had come without a group. It was a lovely surprise for them and made for some great group shots. 

“Agape,” he murmured, enlarging the picture. 

Yuri nodded with a grin.

“Nice details,” he said absentminded. No wonder he couldn’t recognize the blond. The long-haired blond in the white bodysuit with feathers, crystals, and transparent details was as far from the young man with the leopard-patterned jacket, ripped jeans and a red cap as possible.

Then, Yuuri zoomed out and looked at the group again. “Viktor is not here, right?”

“No, he was a jury.” 

“Right,” he trailed off.

A jury. A Viktor at the jury.

“He is Viktor Nikiforov?” he hissed, his eyes bulging. 

“Yeah,” Yuri shrugged. “You didn’t recognize him too?”

“I didn’t,” he moaned. If he did, he would have already fainted, got an autograph, turned into a blubbering mass or something. Refused to play Cinderella with him, for instance. He covered his face with his hands - he dipped Viktor Nikiforov in a dance!

And danced matador-bull with him. 

He thought of the last day of the con where Phitchit, tired of his character’s serious attitude, started the silly dance at a quiet corner. It didn’t say quiet - Yuuri remembered dancing with at least twenty people. 

Viktor’s costume, Viktor’s costume - he had come in another signature one. Long silver hair in a ponytail, a shiny suit in a color similar to the toy Cinderella shoes and some heavy makeup. And not blue eyes. 

Yuuri clearly remembered running towards a magenta matador waving a silver cloth, Viktor’s suit’s cape. At one turn, Yuuri didn’t make horns, and Victor took his hand instead. They swirled, jumped around each other, made ridiculous moves and laughed. Then laughed some more. 

It had gotten so crowded at this point so when someone took Yuuri’s hand for another matador gag, he lost sight of Viktor and didn’t see him again.

“Why did he search for me?”

Yuuri looked at the silver-haired man coming towards them, his soft eyes only on Yuuri.  
The blond grinned, “I won’t spoil the surprise.” He took a step back to withdraw between them before resuming his reading. 

“When the Prince arrives at Cinderella's home, the stepsisters tried in vain to win over the prince.”  
Yuri glanced around and continued when no stepsisters moved forward. 

“Cinderella asked if he might try, while the stepsisters taunted him.”

Yuuri took a step forward Viktor, never breaking eye contact. Viktor showed her the pink shoe, Yuuri put the other shoe on his palm. 

“Naturally, the slipper fit perfectly, and Cinderella produced the other slipper for good measure. Cinderella's stepfamily pleaded for forgiveness, and Cinderella agreed.”

They didn’t take their eyes off each other.

“Why did you search for me?” Yuuri whispered.

Viktor let the plastic shoes fall as he took off his jacket. Throwing it over a chair, he unbuttoned his sleeve. Only when he folded it a few times that he lowered his eyes. Yuuri looked curiously at the embarrassed smile, then to the offered arm.

His breath hitched.

“Cinderella married the Prince as his stepsisters are married to two handsome gentlemen of the royal court.”

Yuuri could only look between the sign and Viktor with wide eyes as his hands pulled back his sleeve clumsily.

Viktor held his hand and kissed his soulmate sign.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

The audience applauded.


End file.
